Parents Should Be Seen, Not Heard

This week, for Write on Edge, the editors asked us to write a memoir detailing a moment in which some aspect of linguistics or dialect played a prominent role. I am continually amazed at how open the kids in my carpool always are, as if I wasn’t even there. It certainly gives me a better glimpse of my children’s lives. The word limit was 400.

The smell of chlorine and two teenaged bodies trickled into the car.

“So what happened after he got caught smokin’ again?” asked The Tortoise.

“He was expelled, ” answered her team mate, buckling his seat belt.

“I feel kinda bad for him,” she replied.

“Why?” he asked, “He was always in trouble. I heard he took drugs too.”

“cuz his mom isn’t nice to him. I heard he tried to live with his Grandma, but she didn’t want him either.”

“That does suck, but he still has to make his own choices.”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just hard to make the right choices when you don’t have people who care about you in your life. Maybe he needs better friends.”

“Duh,” replied her friend, “but who? I mean, I wasn’t gonna be his friend ‘cuz people might think I make bad choices too.”

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Published by My Pajama Days

I am Emily Okaty Wilson, freelance writer, blogger and public speaker. It sounds better than saying I stay in my pajamas all day eating salt and vinegar chips. I claim to be a wife, a mother, a homeschool teacher and a musician. Sometimes I'm funny.
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Copyright Emily Okaty Wilson and/or My Pajama Days 2010. For republication requests of written content, original artwork, or photography, please contact mypajamadays@gmail.com. This notice is void in case of contributions and posts in which the author has specified.